While this took place, while Quilt thundered at the inner door, and Jack drew back the bolts of the outer, a deep, manly voice was heard chanting—as if in contempt of the general uproar—the following strain:— With pipe and punch upon the board, And smiling nymphs around us; No tavern could more mirth afford Than old Saint Giles's round-house! The round-house! the round-house! The jolly—jolly round-house! "The jolly, jolly round-house!" chorussed Sheppard, as the last bar yielded to his efforts. He was roused from the stupor of despair into which he had sunk by the voice of Ben, who roared in his ear, "The bridge!—the bridge!" CHAPTER VII. It’s John. Neither of these wards had beds, and the unfortunate inmates were obliged to take their rest on the oaken floor. The hansom drove off. “I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. “Have to go now.
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